Violence Is My First Language
by Ragnarok Ascendant
Summary: Once upon a time, there was an SI. This SI proceeded, as most do, to upend canon at random, and munchkin the local universe into vast quantities of power. This SI then found himself shanked in the face by the Spear of Destiny, and his fate is currently unknown. This is not his story. This is the story of what happened next. Muse dead. Waiting for resurrection.
1. Chapter 1

**1:03 PM MDT, Thursday, August 13th, 2015**

 **Challengerville**

The place had changed a lot. It had grown less quiet, mostly. Ruins and rumors really didn't stop people from trying to rebuild when there was something to offer, and, well, Uncle Morah had a lot to offer. Even more than he'd started with. Challengerville was bustling again, mostly research groups and laboratories, with all the amenities of civilization growing up around those profitable places filled with people who needed to eat and amuse themselves just like anyone else.

It was annoying, really. I'd gotten used to this being a quiet place. Not that anything was _actually_ quiet when I used my power.

Still, even with the town in the background, the Mountain itself had remained untouched. The Mountain, and the memorial on it. A trail had gradually been worn into the ground by the few who'd come to see it, but the difficulty of the hike for most- not me, though, Mom's fitness regimen saw to that- kept a lot of them away. The place was deserted.

Good. This was private.

The duffle bag on my back clanks slightly as I set it down in front of the solid block of granite that marked the site. All it takes a moment's thought, and my ears shiver and morph into the batlike form they took when my power activated. Sound spills out, to my eyes visible as a riot of not-color and wild hues.

I hated talking, even after years of tutoring to undo the damage my...what was the thing Mom called him? Ah, right... _sperm donor_ had done to me. It just seemed...off. Inefficient. It was a _lot_ easier to have my power talk for me.

" _Hey, uncle,"_ I whisper through my power, bending sound to my will so nobody could hear.

How long had it been since I'd last taken the time to do this? Two years? Three? Too long.

" _It's...it's been a while. But...I'm ready. I talked it over with Mom. We're working it out, but identity isn't really an issue. I'm a bit too public for that. Even if nobody knows I have powers...well, I'm still her kid. People would notice me. But we've got a reason for me to move to the town she picked out and nobody will think too much of it. I don't have powers like hers at all, anyway."_

I settle back against the marble, and drum my fingers on the duffle bag for a moment.

" _I'm still working on the name, but I've got a plan. And I talked to First. So...thank you, for that gift. I guess you kinda knew what I was going to be doing, and what I'd like. It's like you."_

I let silence rest for several minutes as I think it over.

" _A lot's changed. I don't think you'd recognize the country, by now. Everything you did, heck, everything Dr. Destiny did...it was kind of a wake-up call. The League's bigger...and it's got competition, too. Manchester and the November Five just started up in England last year, and they're not the first. I hope he'll do okay. After Uncle Morah helped with his sister, he's been less of a jerk, but he's still...well, he's a bit like you on the bad days. Prickly."_

I couldn't talk like this normally. Too many words, too much effort to keep my brain straight in the process of saying them. But with my power, I just have to _think_.

" _I'll be okay. Mom's been training me. And I think...well, someone has to do it. Cops can't be everywhere. Not even the MIT. And with what you've left for me...I'll be fine."_

I smile.

" _Better than fine, really."_

 **3:18 PM EDT, Saturday, August 15th**

 **Captain's Hill Apartment Complex**

I was regretting asking Mom to not help with moving in. Sure, the fact that her not being here also meant the _press_ wasn't here was a good thing, but I sure felt I could use some super-strength right now. I didn't have that much to move, but it was still frustrating to get done.

Right across the street a new Themysciran women's shelter was being opened, and that was keeping most of the people staring in that direction. The apartment was in Mom's name and she _was_ supposed to live there, about fifteen minutes of her own flight away from the Theymsciran Embassy, but we both knew she'd probably keep doing what she'd been doing for years- working at the Embassy and sleeping on a cot in the back room, or on the Watchtower. Being a hero didn't leave a lot of time for home comforts.

Didn't bother me much, most times. She gave me space when I needed it, and unless the world was actually, literally on fire she'd come spend time with me whenever I needed that instead. Still. Her help would've been great at the moment.

I growl something Ferdinand the Minotaur had once begged me to never repeat in front of Mom under my breath as I finally manage to dig my key out of my pocket while balancing a _heavy_ couple of boxes on my hip with my other arm. Come on…

"Hey, you moving in?"

Gah!

One of the boxes goes flying as I jump at the voice right behind, spinning around. It thuds to the carpeted floor heavily as I try to get my heart rate back under control and look over the girl who'd startled me at the same time.

Caucasian, light brown hair and enough freckles to last a lifetime. About my age, judging from her height, and smiling like she's amused by something.

"You going to keep staring, or what?" she asks. "I can do this all day."

Oh. I'm _not_ blushing as I turn back and finally open the door, then look at her again with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm Sam. And you are…?"

"Cass," I say in my normal voice. "Just moving in."

"Alone?"

"No. Mom's busy, though."

"Oh, cool. Need a hand?"

I consider for a moment, then nod, using the one box I'd managed to keep a hold of to keep the door open. Both of them were filled with books anyway, it's not like they'd suffer for it.

The apartment's pretty nice, all told. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a big living room/kitchen/dining room combination out front, everything in it new. Especially the iron carved in runes on the window frames. That was what really made Mom decide to let me live here- this city was, for all its usual staying-under-the-radar-ness, pretty fast to catch up to magic being a _thing_ rather than just something people like Zatara did for profit and hero work. And that meant keeping some things _out_.

Sam chatters a lot as we work. I keep quiet, mostly, answering questions. I'm not trying to be _rude_ , it's just...tiring, to even _think_ of saying as much as she has in the past few minutes. She doesn't seem to mind, and I get a lot of information out of her.

We're going to the same school- some middle-of-the-road place named after a local civil servant- and my guess was right about us being the same age. She promises to show me around, since I don't know anyone.

It's...nice. Normal.

With her helping and with me not having that much in the first place, we finish really early. Once I've set the last box down, I roll my shoulders, loosening stressed muscles, and then turn back to her. "So. What's there to do for fun around here?"

Sam considers it. "In Brockton Bay? Probably the Boardwalk."

Sounds like a plan to me.


	2. Chapter 2

**4:28 PM EDT, Saturday, August 15th**

 **Brockton Bay**

We didn't go right away, of course. But Sam practically refused to leave until she'd extracted a promise that within a week we _would._ Apparently my current, very comfortable wardrobe of blacks and greys wasn't suitable for my complexion. I'd just shrugged and gone along with it, honestly. The less I stood out in a new school in a _bad_ way, the better, honestly.

It was weird. She just barely skirted the edge of being pushy, but it seemed a bit...nice, I guess, to have someone care that much. Artemis, even though she was practically a big sister as far as I was concerned, wasn't exactly someone to ask about stuff like clothes. M'gann was way too caught up in her odd ideas about pop culture, and Zatanna...well, Zatanna wasn't around enough and hadn't been since she quit Kaldur's team. Not exactly a lot of options.

So, yeah. After Sam had gotten her promise, it was up to me to unpack.

After I deal with the basic stuff, like glasses and silverware, I leave Mom's stuff- mostly a few boxes of clothes- untouched, and focus instead on my own share of the load. I'm mostly just glad the furniture got moved in beforehand. Trying to move a bed or couch would've probably near-killed me, even with Sam helping.

I smile as I set a life-sized bronze mouse on the top shelf of the bookcase, having to stand on tiptoe to reach it. Garfield had gone through a clockwork phase at one point, and that had been one of the results. I mostly kept it unwound for one reason- it tended to _act_ like a wild mouse as well as move like one, and while it had never bitten me it was a lot less nice to everyone else. Even the person who'd made it, funnily enough.

Most of the other things that went on the top shelf were more sentimental- rocks with fossils in them, a few trophies from martial arts competitions, and a _very_ large curved knife that I'd gotten from Io on my second visit to Themyscira. I _still_ wasn't sure I wanted to use the thing. I knew _how_ , but I preferred something less likely to kill someone.

Uncle Legion had done that, sure...but he'd fought far worse people than I'd likely be dealing with.

The other three shelves get filled with books. Reading was a lot easier than speaking for me, and I guess it showed. Most of it was historical stuff and dense reading, but I had my guilty pleasures in the form of two giant collected volumes of _The Walking Dead,_ and enough fantasy to take up half of one of the shelves besides.

A real pity they never got the show running…

The door to the apartment opens.

"Cass?" Mom asks, her voice distinctive even without my power to dissect every element of it. "You here?"

"Setting up," I call back. "Yours still needs to be." I put down the book I'd been shelving, walking back out into the apartment proper.

Mom's in her 'Diana' getup, a charcoal grey suit and slacks, hair up in a bun. A little intimidating and also just average enough people would tend to overlook her in a crowd, even with her figure. Probably why I can't hear the press outside the building anymore, too, if she'd slipped away and changed before coming here.

She smiles when she sees me, and I smile back.

"You work fast."

I shrug. "Had help."

"One of the neighbors?"

A nod. "Name's Sam. She was...nice."

Mom arches an eyebrow. "Making new friends already, I see."

Not really sure if she counts as a friend yet, but I nod anyway. "Same school, apparently. Might go shopping, later."

"I don't suppose I need to tell you to stay safe."

"Nope."

"Good." Mom picks up her stack of boxes and heads into the larger bedroom. While she does that, I grab a glass and fill it with water, following her into the room. Mom blinks as I hand her the glass.

"Thank you," she says, not questioning how I knew she needed the hydration.

She drains the glass, then chuckles to herself. "You know, when my mother decided to start making contact with Man's World again, I didn't think it would involve so many _speeches._ At least Orin's in the same boat."

I have to smile at that. Uncle Legion would probably find it hilarious how much work he'd made for Mom and Aquaman by opening up magic to the public.

I head back to my room before Mom can keep grousing, and finish shelving the last of my books before getting out my laptop. It's a gift from Uncle Morah, and it probably would drive a tech geek insane with envy, but all I know is it's never slowed down and I'm eighty percent sure he snuck an AI onto the thing when I wasn't looking with how things arrange themselves on the screen depending on what I use. I crack my knuckles as it boots up.

Time to do research.

Google reveals quite a lot very quickly.

The major organization in town is the local Mob. They're almost a parody of themselves- guys in suits, leg-breakers, capos and consiglieres and all the other Italian bullshit. Nobody's sure if they've got any metahumans or magical power on their side, mostly because they're old, wealthy, and quiet. Rumor has it money laundering and illegal gambling are their big deals.

There's two up-and-comers. One's obvious, the other is a bit more difficult and one I can only ferret out because Mom's let me access part of the League's files. The obvious one is what everyone calls the Cartel. Their business is, again, obvious- drug shipping, helped along by the growing sea trade. The reason they're obvious?

Well, their alleged boss calls himself 'Snowflame' and is fond of riding a motorcycle while screaming the word 'cocaine' at the top of his lungs whenever he has to break some legs, so it'd be more difficult _not_ to notice him.

The secretive one is the one that scares me. It's nothing more than rumors and whispers right now, but if Papa Midnight really is starting to expand from New York into Brockton...people would have a lot to worry about.

And so would I.

 **7:05 PM EDT**

 **Hall of Justice**

While a few good-sized chunks of the Hall- like the displays, and a few of the unsecure common rooms- could be viewed by tourists, a lot of it was deep underground. Like the training rooms.

I tap my foot impatiently, power activated, watching the echoes bounce off the walls as I think it over.

Uncle Legion's gift...it was impressive, to say the least. But the way he'd designed it...I'd read the notes he'd attached, and the ones First had added as he'd improved on the thing over the years. It...scared me, a little. I'd admit that.

Still. Nothing ventured. Nothing gained. And there was no way Uncle Legion, or First, would design something that would actually be harmful. Well, harmful to me.

Decision made, I headed for the locker, carrying the black duffle with me.

Once inside, and when I'm _sure_ the door is closed and I'm alone, I unzip the duffle bag, taking out a solid, heavily reinforced black box and several pieces of metal, before shucking off the outer layers of my clothes. The overly air-conditioned room raises goosebumps.

Let's get this over with.

The metal bits are easy enough- odd little gauntlets, only reaching down to the first knuckle, and a set of sabatons, as well as a neck torc, all of it the same dark grey metal. The other pieces I leave be, before opening the box. A glass container, heavily padded and filled with black goop, is the only thing in there. I twist off the top, and activate my power, directing sound into it as First had instructed.

The black liquid bubbles, then leaps into my waiting hands, pattering on the gauntlets and using them as a point to gain traction, spreading across my body rapidly. It's almost uncomfortably warm, but that sensation fades quickly as it spreads up my bare arms, solidifying quickly into recognizable armor. In a few seconds, it covers my entire body, metal included, only stopping at the neck where the torc rests. Alright. Next bit. Breastplate, layered shoulder armor, and a pair of curved pieces I fit behind my transfigured ears. The goop grabs on to the first two, covering them and making them the same black color as the rest of me, but it doesn't move up to the earpieces. And it won't until I order it to.

Huh. For all that First talked about it, I really don't feel any different, with it on.

I flick a finger into one of the lockers, absent-mindedly.

It sinks at least an inch deep, tearing right through the thin metal, and I stare. Then I grin.

I'm still not sure why Uncle Legion named this thing Arata, and why he only did that in the development notes rather than the finished bits he put together. But if it can do _that_ , it definitely deserves _a_ name. Names have power, now more than ever.

I pack everything else back into the duffle bag and head back out into the training room, walking towards the _heavy_ weights.

Time to see just what my uncle had in mind for my inheritance.


	3. Chapter 3

**7:06 PM EDT**

 **Hall of Justice**

" _Hiya!"_ The heavy-bag rocks back on its flexible stand, anchored by the enormously heavy weights in the base, and I grin. Sure, pretty much anyone with actual super strength could've sent it flying with the same punch. But nobody normal could've made it so much as budge.

This armor was _incredible_. I was faster, stronger, and- though I was afraid to fully test its alleged limits- _way_ tougher. The microscopic colonies Uncle Legion had bred and First had improved upon fed on kinetic energy and sonic energy, especially certain frequencies only _I_ could create. That alone made them fairly effective, even if someone had just stuck them in a box and used them as armor, but what really made them special was the way they responded to ultrasonic frequencies, far, _far_ beyond the range of hearing. Ones that I could make, and that they could, too, an odd, but appropriate way of communicating. They quite literally danced to my tune, and sang right back.

I grin wider as I keep hitting the bag, enjoying the impact of the armor's gauntlets against padded material, the microbes retreating from the metallic pieces to let me hit with full force in response to a single brief note.

With my powers active, I easily hear the door to the training rooms open, and it's even easier to make out exactly who the two walking in are.

"Wally. Artemis," I say politely before I turn to face them.

"Okay, seriously, how the hell do you do that?" the Flash's nephew asks.

"Footsteps," I answer cheerfully.

It's true, if not the whole answer. Everyone's got their own sounds, the minute and almost indistinguishable differences in how they walk, what they wear, the pace and sound of their breathing. Add it all up, and if it's someone I know, I don't even have to look to identify them.

Both of them are in costume. Wally's updated his again, changing it in color to match his uncle's this time, which I approve of. Looks a lot better than bright yellow. And now he's got all his formulas and potions on a bandolier and on his belt, where they can't get caught on something, unlike the shoulder bag he was using a month ago. Artemis looks the same as she always has, dark green with just enough body armor to be sensible. No weapons, save a large knife at her hip, but then again she never needed them.

"New look?" Artemis asks.

I smile. "Inheritance," I reply, enunciating carefully.

She pauses at that, then smiles. "Good on you, little sis."

"So, gonna join the Team, or what?" Wally asks.

I stare at him.

"Okay, death glare means no, got it. Still, you're sure you're ready?"

My smile is a lot less nice than the one I gave Artemis. "Spar to prove it?" I ask, sugar-sweet. "No powers."

Wally holds up his hands, still smiling. "No thanks, kid. I _know_ you could kick my butt if I wasn't using my speed. And you've already got that armor on, and I _really_ don't feel like being a test dummy, sorry."

Artemis punches him in the shoulder softly. "Fine, you big baby. Come on, sis."

I follow her to the center of the room, while she activates a set of holographic projectors set up in the floor, setting up the ring. Flat terrain, nothing really special, just the normal recording bits.

"Why are you here?" I ask as she starts to stretch.

"Batman wanted to talk to us."

"Why?"

"Asked us not to say, yet," she replies.

Hmph. Fine.

I drop into a ready stance when she finishes her stretches, and she mirrors me.

Off from the sidelines, I hear Wally start eating popcorn. Jerk. No idea what Artemis sees in him.

Artemis nods, and we begin.

Artemis is _fast_ \- the suit doesn't do anything to help my reflexes, and so she's faster than me even if I'm stronger- and she fights up close and personal, and _dirty_. But I know how she moves, and so the hand-to-hand degenerates in seconds to a flurry of grappling moves and counters, fists and elbows and knees, until I finally manage to jump back, the strength of the armor sending me farther than I'd intended. The moment of breathing room is all I need to get my bearings and start hitting back _hard_ , focusing on boxing moves. Bad for someone of my build normally, but strength covers a multitude of sins.

It doesn't cover against overextending yourself, though, and though it's a fraction of an inch too far, Artemis takes advantage instantly, sending me slamming onto the ground on my back.

'FAIL: -', the hologram reads, floating over my head like its trying to tease me.

"No name, still?" Artemis asks as she gives me a hand up.

I shrug. "Good ones are taken."

She chuckles. "Alright, sis. Just don't wait too long, or someone will come up with one for you. How d'you think Wally got stuck with 'Kid' Flash?"

Wally swallows his mouthful of popcorn. "Still blame Cold for that one," he mutters.

We both laugh at that, and I keep smiling. "Got to change. See you later?"

"Sure," Artemis responds. "Call us any time."

 **1:01 PM EDT, Monday, August 17th**

 **Brockton Bay**

When the knock on the door sounds, I get to my feet carefully, like I haven't been practically bouncing off the walls from nervousness ever since Sam asked if she could bring friends over. I shouldn't _be_ nervous- meeting new people was going to happen anyway- but I am.

Deep breaths, Cassandra. You can do this. Just don't mention Mom's work, the last thing I need is a fan club. I mean, they'll figure it out eventually, but don't lead with that.

I open the door, putting on a smile.

"Hey, Cass!" Sam chirps. "Thanks for letting us hang out."

I nod, and step aside to let the three of them enter. As they do, I take note of the two I don't yet know.

One is tall and lean, almost absurdly so, close-cropped black hair and bags under his eyes standing out against pale skin. Even so, he moves like a fighter, always on guard, which is at odds with the lazy smile on his face, and the lack of calluses or scars on his hands.

The other is less muscular, more timid, skin a beigish shade, dark brown hair pulled back in dreadlocks.

Both are dressed casually, t-shirts and shorts, but the one with the dreadlocks definitely has a knife in his pocket. The giant seems unarmed. Probably doesn't usually need it. Sam herself looks largely the same as she had a couple days ago, save different clothes.

"So! Everyone, meet Cass. Cass, this is Law-" Sam points to the beanstalk- "-and Isaac."

"Heya," the new-named 'Law' rumbles, extending a hand, which I shake. "Welcome to the 'Sam makes friends like an octopus' club," he adds. "Seriously, she just keeps latching on to people."

"Hush, I'm not _that_ bad."

"You literally met me in the process of punching out a guy twice your size who happened to be giving me trouble, and then offering to teach me to, and I quote, 'punch them in the face like their dads should've when they started being this way'," Isaac says, just loud enough to be heard. "And then you introduced me to Law."

I laugh, and Sam stares for a moment before her smile widens. "There we go! Knew there had to be something you found funny."

"I find a lot of things funny," I protest. "You just haven't know me long."

It's Law who laughs at that. "She's got you there, Sam."

While Sam rolls her eyes, I close the door. "So. Mom's at work. Should show you around, probably."

"Sure!" Sam says.

She's practically _bouncing._ Is her blood entirely caffeine or something?

Still, it's an apartment, and it really doesn't take that long to cover the entire place.

Law nods at my competition trophies. "You still fight?"

I shrug. "I dabble. Muay thai, jiu jitsu. You?"

Okay, that grin is legitimately terrifying, even more than my uncle's. "Savate, kinda," Law says. "Got to keep my hands in good shape, you get me?"

"No."

"Oh, right. I'm hoping to be a surgeon. Can't do that if I've fucked up my fingers on some asshole's jaw."

Huh. That explains the lack of calluses. I nod. "Good choice. Where?"

"Eh, mostly self-taught," Law admits. "Had an instructor for a bit, then he had to leave town. Met Sam at the same place. We keep each other sharp."

"And I'm apparently the training dummy," Isaac says with good-natured grouchiness.

I try to picture Sam kicking and fighting, and can't. She's too...cute. Even with what Isaac said earlier.

"Looking for a fourth?" I ask.

Sam's ever-present smile widens. "Knew there was a reason I liked you," she says.


	4. Chapter 4

**10:16 PM EDT, Saturday, August 22nd, 2010**

 **Brockton Bay**

Really, it was pretty easy to figure out who'd I go after. I'd had to wait this long, just in case someone connected Mom moving here and bringing me to the appearance of a new hero, and that meant I'd had plenty of time to pick my targets.

The Mafia- more accurately, the Romanos, both for the name of their 'family' and for the fact their 'alleged' boss's house was on Romano street- were far too entrenched. Their white-collar, 'respectable' crime was something I couldn't fight easily. They might not have had many metahumans, that anyone knew of at least, but they had political connections and a lot of mundane foot soldiers if need be. No, taking them on was a bad idea, not until I had a solid reputation and a better way of gathering evidence.

The Midnight Gang would be a bad idea for different reasons, namely the fact that I didn't know if their 'Papa' was in town or not. If he wasn't, I could probably hurt them, so long as I was careful. If he _was_...one stray drop of sweat or blood, a single hair, or even just entering the wrong place could get me killed or worse. It was rumored a good chunk of New York's 'suicides' were him disposing of anyone who bothered him. And he was just one magic user- his gang had dozens, and just like their boss there was no telling who was in town at the moment.

That left the Manos Sangre Cartel. Snowflame aside (and I _still_ had no idea how he ended up even superficially in charge) they didn't have much metahuman fire-power. A few enhanciles, mostly Venom users, but if the Cartel had other assets they were definitely holding them back. None of them had the tech or the raw durability to fight me.

And so now I was hunting drug dealers. My plan was pretty simple: start at the bottom, capture, interrogate to find whoever their boss was and where they were hiding, knock idiot unconscious and leave them for the police, find the boss, and repeat until I ran out of night.

I don't think Mom would approve of me punching my way up the criminal ranks. She thinks I'm just going to be doing general patrols in the area, focusing on the Cartel because I don't want to have hard-core retribution after me. But I need to do more than that.

The Team... I've known most of them since I was a kid. And I am _not_ going to be the baby of the team. I have to prove myself, in a way that was impossible to overlook. I figure causing so much trouble for the Cartel they can't keep selling drugs is a good way to achieve just that.

But there's one major problem.

I can't _find_ any Cartel members. At all. No drug dealers in sight, and while local gangs handle most of that I'm deep inside the territory tagged with red-hand sigils, so it should be _easy_ to find them. But apparently it's vacation night for them or something.

 _Finally_ , my ears pick up something, a block away.

Honestly, who even says 'you got the stuff?' when referring to drugs anymore? Anyone would be suspicious hearing that.

Whatever. Time to climb that ladder of acceptable targets, starting with street-level idiot numbers one and two. I nullify the sound of my footsteps as I jump from rooftop to rooftop.

Identity isn't much of a worry for me. My powers are a secret, so only my face is known, because Mom has about as much of a secret identity as Snowflame. Thankfully, the armor provides a helmet as well as everything else, one that lets my transformed ears flick around and do their thing. Which is mostly just look weird. Either way, my identity is safe as I land completely silently in the shadows of the alleyway, just behind the two men who I'd overheard. Hmm. Now which one's the dealer, and which one's the client? One I have to knock unconscious, the other can run off.

I watch carefully as the closer of the two hands over a bag of what I _think_ is cocaine, gets a wad of bills in response, and then shakes hands with the client. The user walks off quickly.

At which point I turn off the sound, preventing the dealer from hearing a thing as I walk up to him and kick him in the fork of the legs from behind. He folds over, the sound deadened by my power, and I grab his shirt collar, yanking him back up.

" _You and I, we're going to talk a bit,"_ my power whispers in his ear as I leap back up onto the rooftop with him firmly in hand.

 **10:29 PM EDT**

As it turns out, people will tell you just about anything when you threaten to break bones. Including the reason that it's so difficult to find people- a meeting of the local middle-man, who wants to talk to his dealers in person- and where to find said meeting.

He hadn't lied. He hadn't dared.

I heard the meeting long before I saw it, powers picking out entire conversations, men talking among themselves. It takes moments to count them- eight in the first room, half a dozen in the next, along with two men prowling the upper floor.

"-boss is late, should we-"

"-c'mon man, you want to pick a fight with him? Use your damn head."

"-no damn business messing with our turf. Gonna need to send a message. Ours now, bitches."

I land noiselessly on the rooftop nearest the building, a largish two-story building that had all the marks of being abandoned. Brockton's economic boom, helped along by trade with Atlantis and an unusually perceptive mayor, hadn't yet reached this area, it seemed. One guy guarding the door, pistol grip clearly visible from the front of his trousers. Idiot.

It takes about two seconds to deaden the sound around him, drop on top of him, and knock him unconscious. Eleven more to relocate him to a convenient dumpster. I deaden my own sound, and open the door the slightest fraction. Place is full of shadows, only a couple of weak bulbs providing light, mostly in the middle. I can see a couple of the dealers talking, but the door itself is in shadow.

I open it noiselessly and slip into the darkness, keeping at the edges, trusting the armor's coloration and my own power to keep from being noticed, just for a few seconds.

Long enough to shut down sound in the entire building. The quiet chaos and panic that starts up as everyone begins to realize that nobody can hear anything is...satisfying. Men finger weapons, backing into corners, eyes flaring.

I step into the light, clap my hands, the sound ringing out in a completely silent room, and everything goes still.

I snap my fingers, twisting ultrasonic notes into the glass bulbs.

The lights go out, and all hell breaks loose as the men- and one woman- panic instantly. I take a step back as I take what feels like a punch to the chest.

Oh. Someone actually had decent aim.

I hear the bullet tink to the ground.

And then I use the Brown Note.

It's impossible to knock someone out with just sound. Unless they have some weird medical condition, that is. But disorienting them, so badly they can't see straight or even move properly? That's easy.

Some try to run, and I go after them first, leaving a trail of unconscious people- and the ones who really wished they were- in my wake. For most of them, love taps suffice, and a couple don't even need that. Within seconds, the first floor is clear.

Naturally, at that point the ceiling explodes, as a hulking behemoth of a man punches through it, sending plaster and wood everywhere. He tries shouting, only to find out, as his subordinates did, that sound simply doesn't work for him anymore.

Hmm. Muscles like that, he's probably a Venom user. Not a problem. I launch myself forwards, catching the big guy in the gut with both feet, knocking him to the floor and causing yet _more_ property damage on impact.

Check with my powers. Nothing left in the building.

I'm going to be honest, I'm a little disappointed. Even Bane-lite- who has apparently elected to lapse into unconsciousness- wasn't a challenge. On the other hand…well, if that's 'easy', then it's going to take a lot less time to take apart the Cartel than I thought. Oh, well.

I pull a cell phone from my belt, and dial 911. "Hero calling in," I say as soon as the prerecorded announcement stops. Thankfully, the person on the line doesn't interrupt. "Corner of...Cheery and 33rd, two-story building. Got...fourteen dealers in varying states of consciousness, and a Venom user, all incapacitated. I'll be sitting out front, wearing black."

"Understood, ma'am," the person on the other end says. "There's a squad car on the way now."

"Good." I hang up.


	5. Interlude 1

**10:32 PM EDT, Saturday, August 22nd, 2015  
Brockton Bay**

" _There's a two-four-one at Cheery and 33rd, do you copy?"_

It took a moment for Frank to realize what the person on the radio was referring to. A superhero having beaten the shit out of someone. In Brockton, where the last local hero, back in the seventies, had been a bombed-out hippy who'd mostly kept to himself and occasionally punched a neo-Nazi in the throat. And now there was a new one who was actually going around poking the fucking Cartel. Fucking _wonderful_.

Still, he picked up. "Ten-four. Backup?"

" _Negative. 10-16 on fifteen suspects, including a 10-92B. Code Three."_

"Ten-four, en route," he said flatly, before nodding to his partner, Bill. "We got the mat?"

"Sure, it's in the trunk."

"Alright. Let's get this over with."

Fuck, who the hell took out that many idiots at once, including a Venom user? Frank hit the sirens.

Whoever this asshole was, he just hoped they didn't cause too much trouble. Last thing he needed was a gang war. He wasn't some MIRD armor-jockey who could walk through the handguns and take on most metas in a fistfight, and he wanted to live long enough to retire.

He passed one squad car on the way, another pair of officers patting down a suspect. That in and of itself was pretty unusual- not the officers being there, but the fact that someone who was clearly a Cartel dealer was actually cooperating. Usually they were a pain in the ass. Something must've scared the fucker.

They pulled up in front of a shithole of a building, and Bill got out first, hand on his pistol, with Frank ready to cover him. Might not be needed. Might.

No where the hell was…

"Up here," a voice called. Even with that warning, Frank damn near pulled out his pistol as a black shape detached itself from the roof and landed in front of the door, completely silently.

Huh. She was either young or really damn short. And whoever made her costume had been obviously going through one hell of a dark phase. Black, black, and more black, the only real breakup of that color some weird batlike ears and the white eye-spots on her helmet. The rest of her was completely covered, though he could see segmented armor plating on the chest, arms, and legs. Slotted in, maybe?

Probably bulletproof, too. This girl had backup. _Expensive_ backup.

"Evenin', miss," he said politely. "You the one who called in?"

"Yes."

"Got a name?"

"Call me...Hush."

Well, wasn't that ominous. "Alright, Hush. You said one of the boys you took down was a Venom user?"

"Yeah. Big. Dumb, though." Hush shrugged. "Fourteen others. Street dealers, I think Venom was the middle-man."

Shit. Fourteen dealers, not just foot soldiers or users, _and_ a local boss? Frank kept his expression under control. The Cartel would be out for blood for this. Didn't the girl realize this?

"Bill? Get the tarp," he said flatly, before pulling out a pack of zipties, and a voice recorder. "Officer Frank Weber, badge number 7104, at scene of a citizen's arrest, taking statement of 'Hush,' the superhero reporting the incident. Hush, could you confirm your name and then describe what happened for the record, please?"

She nodded. "Sure. Hush here. Picked up a dealer earlier. Things were quiet, got him to tell me why. Checked the place out, powers confirmed it, I went in. They fought, they lost, I called it in."

By the time she finished, Bill had gotten 'the tarp' was exactly that- a tarp. On the other hand, the circle that someone had drawn on it and the numerous runes and squiggly lines and shit Frank didn't have the time, energy, or patience to ask about made it a bit more than that. Nothing more handy than having a portable way to get Venom out of some idiot user's body. Saved beat cops having to call in the MIRD for everything, too.

It didn't take long to tie all the unconscious gang members up. They were, surprisingly, fairly intact. A lot of bruises and a couple ribs that had probably been cracked, but they'd heal up. Not that Frank cared much about a bunch of drug pushers, but it told him Hush knew when to pull her punches. Despite her age. Shit, she couldn't have been older than Lawrence.

It took all three of them to shift the Venom user onto the tarp, though, big hunk of steroid-enhanced muscle that he was. But once Bill pricked his finger and set the voodoo shit in that circle to working, the big man shrank down to normal size pretty damn fast, as the lines and squiggles lit up with a red glow and covered the big guy's body.

Still gave him the shivers. But magic and all the other crazy shit was a fact of life now- hell, he had cold iron, silver, and ash shavings as a special set of shells for the shotgun, just in case someone did something ridiculous, and he always carried a cross on him even when he was off duty. Bill did the same, and so did most cops. And most people in general, though the exact symbol changed depending on religion. Sure, most people didn't have to worry about a vampire, or one of the Fair Folk, or any one of the other things that went bump in the night showing up...but it happened, and people took precautions.

When the circle's light guttered out and the Venom user stopped shrinking, Frank pulled the man off the tarp and zip-tied him as well.

"Hey, Hush, you understand that the Cartel's going to be going after you once they hear about this, right?" he asked as he pulled the unconscious man to join his buddies.

" _They can try, officer,"_ a voice whispered in his ear.

When he turned, she was gone.


	6. Chapter 5

**6:15 AM EDT, Monday, August 24th, 2015**

 **Brockton Bay**

School. I could handle school. That's what I told myself, anyway.

Given that my first day had begun with pouring rain, I was starting to question that determination. I _hated_ rain, it made my powers a pain to use with the need to filter out the falling raindrops and it was just generally annoying.

"Hey, Cass! There you are!"

I smile as Sam waves frantically from under the protection of the bus stop. Okay, so maybe things aren't all that bad.

"Good thing you got here on time," Law observes. "Short stuff here nearly drowned."

"Sorry, Lawrence, we all can't be the Slender Man's bastard offspring," Sam replies in an absurdly sweet voice.

"Hey! I'll have you know my parents were happily married. And my dad's a cop, not...that."

"You see the insanity I have to deal with?" Isaac says to me, completely deadpan. I nod slowly, folding my umbrella as I join them away from the rain.

"Is it always this bad?" I ask, looking at the downpour.

"No, the universe just hates us in particular," Sam remarks cheerily.

"Ignore her. She inhaled an entire thermos of coffee and the high hasn't worn off yet," Law says with a smirk. "Bus should be here soon, anyway. They're always late on the first week."

"Okay."

This is going to be different. But I can do it. I'm a superhero. My mom's a superhero. Other kids do this all the time. I shouldn't be this excited or anxious, but it's been forever since I've done something that didn't involve superheroes, or Mom, or both. ...I don't think I've ever done something this 'normal,' actually, not with how I was raised. Just an average day at high school, being the quiet girl in the background. Do I want that? To be the quiet girl in the background when I'm _not_ planning on using it for its element of surprise?

Law and Sam keep bantering, Isaac occasionally throwing in a choice word or two, and I sit back and let them chatter. Keeps me from being annoyed at the weather, at least.

The bus eventually arrives, forging through the rain to the sound of lashing wipers and squealing brakes, and we clamber aboard in a hurry, getting seats near the back.

Normal high school. Well, normal if none of the teachers or my classmates connected the dots on my name.

 **11:21 AM EDT**

 **Godot High School**

Everything was crowded. Annoyingly so. Classrooms, hallways, and now the cafeteria. A lot more people than I ever expected- the school's probably overcrowded.

Two good things balance out the noise and close quarters: first, despite the verbal roll calls in the first two classes, nobody's put together that Cassandra Prince is _the_ Cassandra Prince, and second, I've got a lunch period with Sam, who is far more of a social butterfly than I will ever be.

Case in point, the fact that I didn't even notice the new people at the table she'd taken me to until she'd actually introduced them. "Oh. Um. Hey."

"Hey yourself," Raul says softly, folding his arms. Huh. Lots of small burns and lacerations on those arms, old ones. Curious. He's built like a brick outhouse, too.

The other, Peg, is a skinny girl with frizzy hair barely kept contained in a ponytail. She barely looks up from her book. I recognize the title- it's one of the more recently published ones, a hefty tome on the effects of widespread magic on the world at large. A lot of it's what Nabu and Ben-Hassin called 'the mewlings of the uninitiated and foolish' and 'alarmist claptrap', respectively, but even they admitted there was solid research in it. Not usual high school reading fare, though.

"So, I wonder…" Sam begins teasingly. I narrow my eyes in mock suspicion.

"What?"

"What's your class schedule like? I want to know if you're as much of a nerd as Isaac."

"Hoping to steal homework?" I ask with a smile.

Raul chuckles, while Peg just shakes her head. "She's got me for that. I think she just wants to balance out the nerds with the scary people," she says. "Me and Isaac are the former, her, Law, and this big lug here are the latter."

"Hush, you. Eat your...what is that, actually?"

"It's _bourekas_. Pastry, it's delicious."

I give it a look, then look down at the cafeteria lunch, which has done its best to live down to popular culture's depiction.

Yay.

"Enough about pastry. Cass?"

I shrug. "Got Honors Physics and English already...Phys Ed next period, then Honors Math." I shrug. "Guess that makes me a nerd."

"An honorary one, with that much math," Peg says. "Still not sure what kind, though."

"You can be smart _and_ scary, you know. Just putting that out there," Raul rumbles.

"So does that mean we're imbalanced? How shall we ever correct this?" Sam gasps melodramatically. "Peg, can I-"

"No, you aren't allowed to conscript more nerds to balance out the scariness," Peg says.

"Fah."

If I didn't know any better, I'd think Sam projects a mind control field that makes people more snarky by now. But no, I'm certain that that sass is natural.

"So I think Law's ending up in the same Phys Ed. class as you," Sam points out. "And I'd bet Isaac's got Math."

"Because he's smarter than you?" I ask wryly.

"Ouch! Right to the heart!"

 **12:01 PM EDT**

Gym class. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be bored out of my mind here.

"Keith Parsons?"

"Here."

Yep, definitely bored. Just like with all the other classes, it's a day of roll call, rules, and more talking. Somehow, it's worse than the other classes. Probably because I want to _move_ , not stand around listening to this overweight coach rattle off names for the forty-odd people here.

"Barron Penders?"

"Here."

I'll be going on patrol tonight, definitely. This is driving me crazy.

"Cassandra- Prince?"

"Oh my god."

"Here."

"OH MY GOD."

Aaaand there's that fangirl reaction I was dreading all day.

Shit.


End file.
